


May The Road Rise With You

by rowboatmiami



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:42:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26937571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rowboatmiami/pseuds/rowboatmiami
Summary: Jack Collins: rebel, loner, Slytherin misfit. Seemingly under everyone's wing, yet under no one's control. How will he impact the events of the Dark Lord's return? Who's side will he take? Can he rise above the reputation of his house, or was he put there for a reason?





	May The Road Rise With You

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: Hello. This is my first foray into fanfiction. Favorite and kudos if you like, leave a review regardless. All feedback welcome. I appreciate anyone who takes the time to read this work. It's a labor of love. -RBM

The boy quivered as the leathery hat descended upon his head slowly. It moved and swayed upon his head, grinding against his shaggy auburn hair. He worried most about if he'd get lice from this old rag. As the sea of robed children whispered and chattered amongst themselves, he turned his gaze down towards his mottled rags. They resembled his, but used as a litter box. The hat spoke with a sneer. "A bright young mind... timid yet with a fire inside…. confused, yet eager to adapt and overcome... Slytherin!" The assorted children cheered. The boy did not know the meaning of the hat's decision. He was still reeling from the fact that a talking hat existed. As he descended back into the crowd, he sat with the boys and girls wearing green. That's all Slytherin was to him, a color. Green, with a silver snake. What did that say about him?

A banquet presented itself to the hall of children and teens. Foods of all sorts, looking as beautiful as they did in advertisements on magazines. The boy questioned if it was even real. Maybe he had hit his head too hard in a game of football. Maybe he had tripped and fallen into Narnia. Whatever was happening, he took a bite of roasted turkey. It warmed him up a little bit.

The kids surrounding him looked like boarding school kids. Prim, proper, preppy. Nice haircuts and clear skin. Some were ugly, yet well maintained. The girls had had their eyebrows plucked. The boys were sporting fresh haircuts. I haven't had one in a while, the boy thought to himself as he ran his hand through his hair. He had messed it up on purpose just after he boarded the train. His mother and father had made him shower and brush his teeth twice for the occasion. They didn't fully understand what was going on, they just knew not to talk about it too much and not think about it too hard. Apparently, their child was a wizard. Their eldest boy was destined for great things someday, they knew for sure. Wizardry was not considered as part of it. Oxford maybe if they could sell everything they own and rob a bank. But a wizarding academy called Hogwarts? Free of charge? Insanity. His father had argued with the witch at his door about the fate of his son, until his mother confirmed it. The boy was a wizard, and his own mother had been hiding the fact that she too could use magic.

The boy picked at the bits of food left on his plate. A full course meal on the first day. Maybe things wouldn't be so bad after all.

\---

As he descended the stairs into the Slytherin common room for the hundredth time, he felt a deep sense of unbelonging. This bunker was his home. They called it a dungeon. Same effect to him. Cold, disheartening, torn and splattered with human souls. In the way that a machine gunner stuck at his post on no man's land, or a prisoner confined to his cell for yet another year of bondage, he almost mistook it for home. He was almost broken. He sat upon the taut black leather couch nearest to him. Some students congregated in the corner. He hoped to avoid their gaze. He heard them discussing some stupid Quittich match. He sunk into the seats a bit more. "Oi, Jacky boy!" a Queen's English voice rang in his ears. A shrill, high pitched, whine. The whine of a platinum blonde, hoity toity blueblood. "Malfoy." The shaggy haired Jack responded. They were like polar opposites. Malfoy was as clean and proper as an unlit candlestick. Jack looked like an isolated wick. But there was something different about him. His hair was just out of order today. And he seemed a bit more peeved than usual. "I thought you were going to be in the courtyard today. Where were you?" Malfoy's goons had surrounded the couch he reclined on. "Speak up, Jacky." His eyes squinted and his mouth was pressed shut. He was itching for a fight.

He rubbed his eyes and sat up a bit. He was too tired for this. "I was at my Potions tutoring-" The blue eyed teen interrupted him. "Don't give me that shite. You go where I tell you to go, is that clear?" Jack's hazel eyes met Draco's blue. His lackeys, his gang, pushed against the leather couch with their collective weight. "Right. Sorry Draco." The bully smirked, then ran a hand through his curtained hair. "Good. Now next time you roll with me. I'll tell you what you need to know in Potions. I may be able to put in a good word for you with Snape." His drones coagulated behind Draco, and they drifted off to another end of the Slytherin dungeon.

\---

Jack had read the Defensive Magical Theory textbook 5 times over at this point. He sat in that room at the far back just to the left, sandwiched between some twitchy, ghostly looking Slytherin girl and some Gryffindor lout. She would glance past him to stare at Draco when Professor Umbridge wasn't looking. She drew hearts inside her notes. She smiled to herself and scratched the top of her head. Her jagged fingernails dug into her scalp through greasy, matted black hair. She looked like she hadn't showered in days. Jack stared at his book wishing someone else was Professor. The boy next to him tried desperately to remain awake and lucid, but every second, his droopy eyes attempted to close. He rocked back and forth like this for the entire class. Every day. But at least he didn't vibrate. He did smell a bit though. The Ministry had appointed this vile woman, Umbridge, to be their guard dog, and she didn't know how to teach as it was. He felt a tap on his left shoulder. A note was slid to him. It had Draco's name on it. He rolled his eyes and passed it to his right. The girl shook the bench they sat on with her jittering. The class came to a close soon after, with the girl rocketing up to exit the room, probably to stalk Draco. "Remember your group project is due after the weekend!" The group project. Jack grimaced at the thought of having to work with this psycho and the big wall next to him. Jack grimaced at the thought of having to work with this psycho and the big wall next to him. Jack grabbed the sleeve of the girl. She recoiled in shock. “How bloody dare you-” 

“Have you done anything for the project?” Jack said as he raised to a hunched stance. “Besides writing your wee love notes to Malfoy?” 

The girl blushed intensely and pulled her hand away. “We gotta finish it soon, so meet me in the courtyard later today. 5 pm. And you-” Jack turned to the sleeping giant next to him.

“Meet me in the courtyard. Same time. Just for a minute.” The boy nodded. He ascended from his seat and walked out of the class like a droopy slug. Jack turned back to the girl next to him. Her unevenly shadowed eyes followed Malfoy as he walked out of the door. She skipped away to follow the blueblood. Jack followed the crowd out of the door, always at the back end.

\---

Harry Potter was in a state of frustration at every waking moment. The Ministry's fingers being stuck into the Hogwarts curriculum was a threat. It helped Voldemort's return. "So what do you think we're gonna do?" a low voice said with a groan. Harry looked at the source, a mop of red hair and adolescent stubble. His best friend, Ron Weasley. "We have to take it into our own hands. Somehow. Do you know where Hermione is?" Ron rolled up from the corduroy red couch into a seated position. "Beats me." The dust hung in the cold air. The warmth from the sun was fading with every day as the winter approached. "This is all too complicated." Harry said to himself, resting his head in his hands. Ron slid over and placed a pale hand on his friend's shoulder. "It'll be alright Harry, we'll make it through this. You're not alone. You have me, Hermione, Ginny… and Neville!"

A large, oafish boy collapsed on the adjacent couch. He groaned in a mixture of relief and fatigue. Harry and Ron both looked at him with minor shock.

"What's wrong Neville?" Ron asked.

"Dadaaa…" Neville droned. "Umbridge. That cruel woman." Harry grit his teeth.

Neville turned his head and rested on his cheek. "I have a group project… with two Slytherins."

Ron ruffled his eyebrows in confusion. "Two Slytherins? She must have it out for anyone with a red tie then." Harry chimed in. "Who are they? Do you know them?"

Neville rolled onto his back. "Some creepy girl and a mean Irishman." He rubbed his eyes. "Do you have the time?"

Harry looked at his watch. "Err… four-forty...six."

Neville sat up slowly. "The Irish one told me to meet them at the courtyard to discuss the project."

Harry and Ron looked at each other, then back to Neville. Ron spoke first. "I'm going with you. Harry, you good here? Hermione will probably be back any time soon."

The distrust of Slytherin-types amongst Gryffindors was palpable. Harry agreed in the moment, nodding quickly and leaning back into his chair.

Neville and Ron left for the courtyard, as Harry swam around in his mind. Two Slytherins. They loved to gang up on Neville. Once a Slytherin, always a Slytherin.

\---

The sky began to dim in Greenwich Mean Time. Jack stood, arms crossed and staring at the floor. His enthusiasm for having to organize was low. In a strange way, he wished he had Draco's natural charisma. But not his lineage. He didn't want to inherit some kind of genetic disorder. The posh lifestyle was not for him, being the son of a factory worker and a civil servant in Belfast. He preferred his home to this place. Everything felt so disconnected, so vacant in connection. He envied the camaraderie amongst the other houses, and on some days, swore that the Sorting Hat was wrong in some way. Draco would congratulate him for doing his dirty work, and even then, with the support of a gang of thugs, he still felt like an arm. Like the day they pushed around some poor Muggle-born Hufflepuff for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Jack pushed him onto the turf. Dirt got into the poor boy's mouth. As the Hufflepuff boy ran away, Draco smirked and patted Jack on the back. "Pretty good for a half blood, ey boys?" he'd say. The boys would cheer. Jack would smile, with no teeth to bare.

From the corner of his eye, he spotted a dark figure, tinged with white and green approaching him. He looked up and was met with the familiar face of the girl from his class. Her eyebrows pointed downwards, and she stomped as she walked. Her fists were in balls. He felt a bit of remorse, so he raised his hand. "Ey." He said first. "Sorry about today." She punched him in the stomach. "Do you have any idea how rude it is for someone of YOUR status to even touch someone of my status?" Jack recoiled, clutching his stomach in pain. "And you never tell anyone about Draco and I. He WILL be mine one day." Jack felt it was a bad time to mention Draco's Quidditch locker room boasting. "I don't want any competition."

"Yer one delusional girl, aren't yeh?" His Irish accent slipped with his spleen. As he pushed himself back together, he stood up. "I don't even know who you are."

The girl straightened her posture, hands at her sides, looking slightly up at the lanky Slytherin boy in front of her. "You talk funny. You see, people of higher status talk like this. But you don't. Who are you and where are you from?"

Jack had no energy to be offended at this moron. "Jack Collins. Belfast. And you?"

She hadn't an idea where Belfast was. "Matilda Kensington. Youngest daughter of the Kensingtons. Future Malfoy."

Jack held back a smirk. As if. "Right." He said. "So the group project, I'm thinking we split it 50/50. Are you better at writing or… drawing?"

Matilda bit her lip.

"Drawing."

Jack recrossed his arms. "Then I'll do the writing. You got money for a poster?"

Matilda grimaced. "I should have anticipated you being cheap."

Jack rolled his eyes. "Not cheap, just poor."

The pair were interrupted by the stares of two Gryffindor boys. The taller one stepped forward, croaking out a weak, "I can pay for it," and holding a sweaty, shaky hand out toward the two. out. "Erm, I'm Neville. Neville Longbottom." Behind him stood a calculating Ron Weasley, hands in robed pockets.

Jack looked at the hand, and shook it weakly. "Jack Collins. This is Matilda." Neville retracted his hand and presented it to the girl. She simply crossed her arms and looked onward with disgust. The trio stood in silence as Ron paced slowly to the left, to look closer at Jack. If his hair was a little redder, he could have passed for a tall Weasley cousin. He looked over him once more, and was confused at how professionally this Slytherin was conducting himself.

"Look pal, we split the money. I ain't got much but here's some pocket change. Matilda, cough up some dough." He turned to Matilda, who begrudgingly produced some gold coins. She refused to touch Neville, and handed the coins to Jack. Jack put them into Neville's hands. "Go down to Hogsmeade and pick us up some supplies. Tomorrow at noon we'll work in the library. Got it?" Neville looked at the coins. His eyes widened. Matilda had put one too many galleons into Jack's fist. Neville put the change into his pocket. "Uh, t-thanks. I'll see you guys tomorrow then." Neville backpedaled into Ron. The two began to walk away, with Ron glancing over his shoulder back at the two Slytherins, still on guard, hand shoved into his pockets, with one on his wand. "Oi!" Ron looked back and readied for a fight. His stance widened. Jack stood on the courtyard with Matilda in the same stance as when the boys began to walk away. "The change is yours." Ron turned back around as Neville choked out another thanks. "They must be up to something. No good two timing…" Neville jogged to catch up with the fuming Ron.

Jack and Matilda were again alone on the courtyard. Clouds had rolled in. As students piled under the rafters to seek shelter, the two were left standing in the splash zone. The gray of the sky threatened to make Matilda's mascara run. Jack felt a drop on his nose. "I'll see you at noon tomorrow, Mati-" Before he knew it, Matilda was running off to trail a small patch of blonde amongst the rabble. Jack slid into the crowd, barely noticed.


End file.
